October 21, 2008
While I've never been overly certain of who exactly this man was who was occupying my body; I have often thought of myself as earthy, unsentimental, practical, a man who is far more interested in terrestrial matters than living life in waking dreams. I do my best to be in the moment! Not in yesterday or tomorrow or what will never come. I like to keep my mind about me as I walk, enjoying a full array of sensation whether I be in the city or in the woods or on the beach, not floating seven feet in the air lost in some worry or fear or wonderland which I have very little chance of encountering.
I'm a fellow who has developed a desire for realistic expectations, so when people fail to be anything but perfect, and events fail to come out exactly as I plan, I'm not traumatized by disappointment.
This is not to say that I've become disillusioned. I do manage to be quite pleased when things turn out better than I would have expected if I had allowed myself to have had expectations. I am quite very often delighted with my relationship, my job, my friends; even the evening news sometimes makes me smile. I just try to make every attempt to accept people for who they are--it's hard to complain when humans are guilty of the mundane sin of simply being human.
I am also someone who encounters a very great deal of difficulty writing about me. I find myself boring to the point of somnolence--I live with me all the time, I have a never ending stream of me. Me, day in and day out, constantly and ongoing, my thoughts, my habits, my defects of character--so what interest, having already lived in them, would I have writing about my life and times. And if I'm not interested in my life, why would anyone else be?
So, now I have engaged in an enigma: A lengthy monologue expounding and enlightening on the least interesting subject that comes to my mind, me. And as painful as I imagine these words to the eye of an ordinary reader, imagine the pain and agony they've been to the author to compose. And to what end?
Ring of love, by Roger McLassus from Wikimedia Commons, available under the GNU Free documentation licenseThings change. Some flitter of a folly has enlisted the synapses of my subconscious; starting out as a minor ripples in my ever-presentness, and growing to be maddening, consuming my mind, as if some wayward god of love's fat hairy hand was deep inside of met, controlling my every action and behavior. Where there was once stability, now becomes erratic behavior. Where there was once solid earth now becomes quicksand keeping me off my feet.
The man who I have come to love, the man who I've decided to spend the last few years with, who I dragged from the Atlantic Coast to the Gulf Coast and from the Gulf to the Pacific, proposed to me last February and I have not been quite the same fellow since.
So now I'm thinking about a wedding.
I'm not interested in little simple City Hall ditty either and I need lots of time to plan. I have been to the weddings of all three of my siblings as well as a step-brother, countless cousins, and even each of my parents' second, individual unsuccessful attempts at the right one. I want a big wedding, in a nice Lutheran chapel, where I will expect to see my family, and his--and friends of the groom on one side and friends of the groom on the other.
Of course we are wearing tuxes--not identical, no, that would be unconscionable, but something suitable, perfectly coordinated, tasteful, something to be remembered forever. My ex has already consented to be my best man (he's already given me away), and next to my soon-to-be-husband (I expect) is his oldest, dearest friend Jan. We'll say our vows, and exchange some masterfully crafted rings and some wonderful songbird will sing something lovely and a cappelo. The church organist will play, we'll run out of the church, attacked by popcorn and paper, and in to the back of a limousine.
And I fully expect my mother and father to fork it out, too, to help pay for this. Now is the time to demonstrate that I'm just as perfect in their eyes as my sister and my two brothers. It's been a decade since the last one, I have no doubt that by now they've paid off those second mortgages or home equity loans it took to get the others hitched! No amount of money is too much because this is going to be our...perfect...day.
The only thing that could ruin the happy mood I've been given because of this beautiful-in-the-eyes-of-God union would be the indignant self-satisfaction of the Catholics and Church of Latter Day Saints, the former who've had their little boys taken away and the latter who aren't allowed have their spare wives, who, after spewing some appalling twenty million donations into round-the-clock thirty-second brainwashing pieces crafted to arouse the deepest darkest fears of some gay bogeyman, succeed in duping enough unwitting sheep that my wedding day, which should have nothing to do with them, is canceled.
You know what happens to a young bride who has had her perfect wedding day dashed? She becomes a monster, a demoness, a bridezilla. That little young thing has nothing on me. The reckoning will come if this groom doesn't get his day.
Posted by Bastique at October 21, 2008 10:40 PM
Congratulations for the future wedding, I wish U all the best that day and for the rest of your life together.
Consider the possibility of a HoneyMoon in Barcelona :)
Posted by: Enric at October 29, 2008 5:19 AM